


Burn the Heart Out of You

by Persephoneshadow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel Whump, Dean Whump, Demon Dean Winchester, Demonic Possession, Gen, Human Castiel, M/M, Possessed Dean, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephoneshadow/pseuds/Persephoneshadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A knight of hell can do a lot of terrifying things. Possessing Dean the day he's reunited with Castiel is just the start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously since this is a possession fic there may be elements of non-con here. And yes the title is a Sherlock quote. it just seemed right.

_The first thing he notices is the smell. It’s thick, and fetid, and has a heat to it that makes him sick. It’s awful. Like trash piled on a ripe body and dusted with sulfur._

_Sulfur._

_His eyes fly open. Or they try to. But everything is still black. The stench…it’s not just a smell. It’s a thing. Something black and grainy and thick, coiled all around him. His heart would be pounding except it’s not. He should be shaking with fear and disgust and rage. But he can’t move. There’s only the stinking blackness._

_This is hell. It has to be, he thinks._

_And then it comes – laughter. Not normal laughter, of course. This is cold and empty and as rotten and dark as whatever it is that’s wrapped around him. The thing is the one laughing. And then the laugh is a voice._

_“Oh, darlin’, this isn’t hell. You know better than that, don’t you?” the demon asks. It has to be a demon. He has no idea how, but it has to be._

_“Smart boy,” the voice hisses._

_And suddenly his eyes are open. The smell and the black are gone and he’s…where is he? A bathroom. Some crappy diner bathroom in the middle of nowhere and he has no idea how he got there._

_He turns to look around, except he’s not the one deciding to turn. His hands flex and he feel something inside him stretching out, testing. And finally he’s turned to the mirror. The face is his, but the smile…it's not even a smile. It's a deadly, cruel smirk…that’s not him. This is not him._

_“Oh, Dean, we’re going to have so much fun,” his reflection purrs as his eyes are swallowed in black._

 

“You ok?” Sam asks as Dean emerges from the back of the diner.

“Yeah, barely a flesh wound,” Dean shrugs, absently palming the spot on his arm where Sam knows the knife wound has been bandaged. “I’m more pissed about the shirt. Really liked that one.”

“Let’s just focus on the fact we’re alive,” Sam sighs. “That was way too close.”

“Gotta love it when demons get resourceful,” Dean grimaces. “Next thing you know they’ll have guns.”

Sam scowls at Dean. What they had hoped was going to be an easy safety sweep had turned into an all out attack from five highly prepared demons. The first had alerted others that the Winchesters were in town via a freaking tweet. It was almost sad.

“Well, at least we sent them all back to the hellfires of home,” Dean sort of agrees. “Let’s get out of here.”

“You ok to drive?” Sam asks, getting the expected raised eyebrow and ‘are you kidding me’ look from Dean in response. Sam chuckles as they head towards the impala, glad that some things never changed.

Dean pauses before getting in the car, wincing as his hand closes around the handle and Sam’s good humor evaporates.

“You really ok, man?”

Dean looks up, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Yeah, yeah fine, just, uh, the arm.”

“Ok…” Sam mutters.

They slide easily into their regular seats and Dean turns the key, smiling, but only for a second. The engine gives a few rasping grunts but, shockingly, does not roar to life.

“What the hell?” Dean yells, twisting the key again. Sam looks back and forth between his brother and the dash, flabbergasted and waiting for a shouted ‘what the hell did you do to my car, Sammy’ that doesn’t come.

“It was fine this morning…” Sam mutters as Dean pushes out and stalks towards the hood. Sam slides over, furrowing his brow and cautiously fingering the key. One more try wouldn’t hurt.

The engine roars to life and Dean jumps back from the hood.

“Seems to be fine now,” Sam shrugs. “Maybe she’s mad at you.”

“Shut up,” Dean scowls.

Sam cocks an eyebrow in surprise as Dean moves to the other side of the car and takes Sam’s place in the passenger seat. Apparently Sam is driving.

“Well, at least now we know the coast is clear for when he gets in,” Sam reminds Dean, who gives him a nervous look. “I know you’re worried. I’m sure he’ll be fine. I mean, even if he’s human, he’s still Cas, you know.”

“Yeah, I know…” Dean mutters and stares out the window.

 

_There’s a surge of pain through Dean’s body. That is, if he can still call it his body with a demon riding him. But the pain is real enough._

_“Hmmm, did little brother hit a nerve there?” the demon’s voice asks, inhuman and dissonant._

_“Don't you go near Cas!” Dean thinks for the thousandth time and is surprised to really hear the words._

_“Oh, so now we’re talking? Lovely,” the demon purrs._

_“And while you’re at it get the fuck out of my meat, you son of a bitch,” Dean yells; as much as he can yell in his own head. It only makes the demon laugh._

_“Can’t do that, Dean, dearest, I’m in your blood now,” the things answers, laughing again._

_Blood, that’s how it had done it, made it past the tattoo and everything. The attack, the omens, it had all been for this…to get him._

_“Bingo.”_

_Dean feels his own lips quirk in a smile and sees a flash of Sam in the impala beside him. He had to get this thing away from Sam too, before..._

_“And why is that, Dean, honey? What’s Sammy got that’s so special?”_

_For the first time since this mess started Dean feels something like hope._

_“You don’t know?” Dean asks, as sudden as the hope flared there is answering pain in return. The demon is angry._

_“Funny, huh?” it sneers. Or it at least sounds like it’s sneering. “That tattoo and whatever is on your ribs, and what I'm guessing is a lifetime's worth of supressing everything are making it…hard for me to get anything good out of your noggin.”_

_“Than god for small favors,” Dean says, or maybe thinks. He’s not sure. But the wave of fury that washes through him at that pushes back the thought._

_“Let’s not bring up that asshole, okay?”_

_“Sammy’s gonna figure this out you know,” Dean declares. “If you’re having trouble raping my memories, you’re not gonna be able to fool him for long.”_

_The thing laughs again. Not what Dean was hoping for. “And then what will he do? Exorcize me? Kill me? That’s gonna be harder than you think.”_

_The words send a new kind of fear through Dean. It’s desperate and way too familiar._

_In a sudden swirl of color and light and smoke Dean can’t see the road anymore. Instead he’s…standing in a living room. Bobby’s living room of all places. And he can move his arms and blink in tired surprise. This wouldn’t have been the first place he’d have guessed the inside of his head looked like, but okay._

_“Interesting.” A voice that Dean knows instantly doesn’t belong there comments. He turns to face the demon, preparing himself to see black smoke, or any of the dozens of demonic mugs he wishes he could forget._

_It’s a woman. She’s small and has dark, golden-brown skin and long, black hair. If he had to guess he’d say she was Greek or Arabic, something like that. There’s a terrible, cruel smile on her face._

_“Who are you?” Dean asks, not even sure if he wants to know._

_“Oh, you don’t recognize me? This is what I looked like the first time I was mortal, before Lucifer elevated me,” she answers. “Would you like me to put on something different? More familiar…”_

_Dean swallows. He knows what’s coming and he’s not even sure what comes first – the thought of smeared red lips, red hair and livid red stitches on a white neck, or the image of it._

_“Abaddon.”_

_The face that once belonged to a nice girl named Josie Sands smiles. “Let’s get started, shall we?”_

_Dean is surprised that even in his brain, he can feel pain when he flies against a wall with a flick of Abaddon’s wrist. He grunts as he struggles to stand, terror filling him as she reaches for one of the hundreds of books that had always been piled around Bobby’s place. Dean knows though that these are not books of lore. They’re him. His memories. His secrets._

_He doesn’t know how the gun gets in his hand, but the 1911 had always felt like part of him when he held it and hell, this is his brain. And damn if the bitch doesn’t look surprised when it goes off, hitting her square in the chest._

_“What, you think I’m gonna make this easy, you evil bitch?” Dean growls, unloading two more shots before he’s thrown back again._

 

“Whoa, man, you okay?” Sam asks as Dean squeezes his eyes shut and grimaces.

“Yeah…fine…” Dean pants, very clearly not fine. “Headache.”

“You sure those demons didn’t give you a concussion?” Sam asks warily as they pull into the bus station parking lot.

Dean opens his eyes and shakes off…whatever it was.

“I’m fine, Sam, lets go,” Dean barks.

Sam can’t put his fingers on it but there’s something about the tone, about the way Dean hauls himself out of the car and slams the door that’s…off. It’s been there since the car wouldn’t start for him.

For a second Sam thinks about how dogs know when some things wrong with an owner before humans do, then has to remind himself that the impala is just a car…

It’s not just a car.

The voice in Sam’s head is clear. Clearer than any instinct he’s had in a long time. He tries to push it away as he rushes after Dean into the bus depot.

Dean pauses to search the crowd for Cas, but they’re early. He turns to Sam and gives him a smile and a shrug.

“I guess we wait here,” Dean says, taking a seat on a long wooden bench.

 

_“Sit down and shut up, boy,” Abaddon orders, fury in her eyes as her power pushes Dean back against a wall. Dean is pinned, his gun on the floor. At least its still there. That’s something._

_“You think you have control because this is your mind?” Abaddon demands, retrieving the book she dropped. “You think you can hurt me?”_

  
_“I think I just did,” Dean spits back._

_“You, smug sack of puss,” she roars back. “I stood in the presence of the Morning Star. He anointed me with power rivaled only by his own. My apprentices were angels I dragged into the pit and made my own. Do you actually think you can fight me?”_

_“Angels?” Dean echoes, because apparently curious and stupid beat out smug and defiant in that moment. “You turned angels into demons?”_

_Abaddon’s eyes narrow, her red lacquered fingernails caressing the spine of the book she holds. There’s a conflict there, as if she knows she should get with the hurting but can’t help talking._

_“My greatest work. You should have seen their faces when Azazel turned against his brothers. We slaughtered them together…”_

_“Azazel?” Dean scoffs. “You’re telling me yellow eyes was a fucking angel?”_

_Abaddon advances on him. “You know him?” she asks. “Where is he? He should have taken the throne of hell in my absence, not the slimy insect Crowley. Azazel is destined to set in motion our father’s return…”_

_Dean couldn’t stop himself laughing. It made Abaddon look even more shocked than shooting her._

_“Holy crap, you really missed a lot,” Dean smirks. “Yeah, I knew yellow eyes. The dick killed my parents.” The demon across from him smiles for an instant. “And I’m the one that killed him.”_

_“You’re lying!” Abaddon screams. In an instant her hand is on Dean’s neck, lifting him against the wall. Lucky he doesn’t need to breathe in his brain._

_“Scout’s honor,” Dean grunts. “Go ahead and check. That memory is a open freakin’ book,” he goads her on. He’s dropped on the floor before he can say anything elese and the book is glowing in Abaddon’s hands. Dean gives a weak smile as memories flash before his eyes. He can almost feel the colt in his hands, and the rock solid certainty and rightness of that fatal shot. He can smell the smoke and wind and for a second hope surges in him again. They beat yellow eyes. They can beat this bitch._

_“No…” Abaddon gasps._

_“Oh, and I have some bad news for you about Lucifer,” Dean pushes._

_Memories flood through his head and the book glows brighter. St. Mary’s. Lilith dead. Carthage. Crowley’s help. The horsemen’s rings. Lucifer back in the cage. Bobby. Cas. Sam._

_Abaddon throws the book from her hands as if it burns her. Wait, her hands are red and scabbed…did it burn her? Maybe. Because what he thinks happens here. At least when he has the right…motivation or whatever._

_“You…you arrogant, stupid…” Abaddon fumes._

_“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard ‘em all, whatever,” Dean stops her. “We stopped the apocalypse and your big daddy is stuck in that cage forever. Boo hoo,” Dean sneers as he struggles up. He doesn't know if closing his eyes or taking a breath really does much here, but he still does it. And then he feels the weight in his hand._

_“I am going to rip you and your brother and that filthy angel apart!” Abbadon screams, so loud it makes the room shake. Dean doesn’t flinch. He needs to wait._

_“Yeah, you’re not going to hurt him, I can guarantee that…” Dean smiles, pushing Sam’s secret as far back in his mind as it can go. “And you aren’t going to hurt me, just yet so…I think you’re all talk.”_

_It occurs to Dean the moment she smiles that this was a very stupid thing to say. The pain comes first. And then he can see out of his own eyes again. The sight makes everything stop._

_He’s standing beside Sam in the bus terminal looking into plaintive, blue eyes that still look like something out of this world._

_“Hello, Dean…” Cas murmurs._

_And Abbadon begins to laugh._


	2. Chapter 2

Sam stares between his brother and Castiel. The conflict in Dean’s face is clear, but it’s not what Sam had expected. He had been prepared to watch his brother fight the urge to hug the ex-angel, or debate between yelling at him or asking if he was okay. But he was just…stone.

It makes the hairs on the back of Sam’s neck stand up.

“Hey,” Dean finally manages, his voice flat.

“You look different,” Cas states, swallowing. He hasn’t even looked at Sam yet.

“I look different?” Dean balks. “Says the dude who got a new outfit for the first time in five years?”

Cas gives a small smile, looking down at his dirty clothes – cargo pants, a hoodie and a coat over it.

“I’m accustomed to being able to see your soul,” Cas explains, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Seeing you…like this will take some getting use to.”

 

_“Fuck.”_

_The fear Dean is feeling is bad even by his recent standards. It’s different than watching Sammy in the hospital. Different than seeing the angels fall. Because then he’d known, somewhere deep down that Cas or someone was coming to help. He’d been sure of it. But right now the most dangerous demon he’s ever met is inches from a human Castiel. And he has no idea what she’s going to do to him._

_“You care very much for this one,” Abaddon states, her voice oily thick with vicious amusement. “You can’t hide that from me. There’s too much.”_

_“If you…”_

_“If I hurt him you’ll kill me?” Abaddon cackles. “Maybe I don’t want to hurt him…”_

_“Shut up, bitch,” Dean orders._

_“No, don’t think I will.”_

_Dean concentrates of the feel of worn, polished wood in his hand. He imagines the feel of the pentagram carved beneath his thumb. This is how he killed the bitch’s favorite lackey. This can hurt her. This will hurt._

_First he has to move…He’s still pinned against the wall and he can’t fucking move._

 

“I uh…” Cas begins, shuffling uncomfortably. “I am very glad to see you,” he states, not taking his eyes off Dean.

“Hi to you too, Cas,” Sam sighs.

“Hello, Sam,” Cas nods. “I’m glad that you’ve recovered.”

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Sam mutters, but Cas is already looking at Dean, his brows knit earnestly.

“Let’s get out of here…too many civilians,” Dean suggests. He doesn’t wait for Sam and Cas to follow as he heads out of the terminal and towards the impala. Castiel’s eyes don’t leave him.

“Something wrong?” Dean asks, glancing around him as the reach the car. The alarm bells in Sam’s head gain in volume.

“No, it’s nothing…” Cas mutters. He reaches out a hand to Dean and gently squeezes his arm. “It’s just…it’s good to see you.”

 

_Dean feels the contact like Cas’ hand is on fire. No - an electric shock. He knows Abaddon feels it too, but it’s too late when she looks up._

_“You know, reading really isn’t as good as experiencing it personally, don’t you think,” Dean asks as he raises the colt and cocks it. Abaddon looks confused for just a moment before he fires._

_The bullet lodges in her skull and suddenly Dean can breathe. And he can see Cas and Sam looking at him in terror._

 

Sam rushes to his brother as he doubles over, grabbing tightly to Castiel’s arm.

“Sam, no! Get back!” Dean cries and his voice is ragged and harsh.

“Dean!” Cas cries, his eyes wide as Dean’s face contorts in pain and effort.

“Cas get back he’s possessed!” Sam yells. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he's sure of it. He knew it as sure as if he could see the distorted, black _thing_ struggling inside his brother’s body…

“I can’t fight her…” Dean rasps through gripped teeth, falling to his knees.

“Her? Who?” Cas asks, completely ignoring Sam. He grabs Dean’s shoulders as if he could still will the demon out of him with a touch. Dean winces in agony as Cas shakes him. “Who is it, Dean? How did it....”

“Abaddon!” Dean screams and Sam’s heart stops. He doesn’t care that Dean told him to get away or that Cas is human and in so much danger now. He has to do something…he has to start an exorcism.

“Exorcitamus te…” Sam doesn’t even have a chance to get to the third word before he’s flying against into a carola ten feet away, the windshield shattering at his impact.

“You Winchesters certainly do have a way of ruining all my fun, don’t you?” Dean asks, straightening up. No, not Dean. Abaddon wearing Dean.

“And you…” Dean smirks and grabs Cas by the throat. His eyes fill with black as he tilts his head, examining the struggling human in his grasp like a hooked fish. “You are just something else, little angel.”

“Dean…fight this….” Cas gurgles, groping uselessly at the hand on his neck.

“Dean’s in time out right now,” Abaddon grins.

 

_Everything is pain and darkness. Dean can her someone yelling his name but the sound of his own screams is drowning it out._

_“That was uncalled for, Dean,” Abaddon reprimands him. The world of his mind comes back into focus and he’s writhing on Bobby’s floor, a foot pressed on his neck. “Do you actually think you can beat me with toys and memory?”_

_“That’s the idea, yeah…” Dean rasps._

_He had her beat, for a second. He just has to find something better, something stronger to hold onto…_

_“I think it’s time to move this along,” Abaddon declares and Dean feels his own mouth forming the words. They taste like brimstone. And he can feel skin under his hands, hot and terrified and struggling. And he can see Cas, looking up at him in despair. Somewhere behind him Sam is screaming._

 

“Get out of him!” Sam roars, struggling off the hood of the car and stumbling towards Dean.

He’s thrown back again, this time to the pavement. The laugh that comes out of his brother makes Sam’s skin crawl.

“I give the orders,” Abaddon sneers, looking back at Castiel and licking his lips. “And I am commanding you to get on the next bus out of this shit hole town, Sam.” The black eyes turn back on Sam and the demon smiles coldly. “Unless you want me to snap this fragile little neck.”

“He won’t let you,” Sam protests, trying to catch his breath. There’s something inside of him screaming at him to run, to have faith in Dean, to retreat and make a plan. But he can’t do that.

“Hmmm, maybe not,” the demon shrugs, pulling Cas closer.

Cas squirms as the thing examines him, a curious leer spreading over the stolen face. “And maybe I want a new toy.”

“Oh my god…”

They all turn at the same moment to see the woman staring at them, her hand over her mouth. She’s wearing a sweater set and her hair is brown and curly and she looks like a nice normal person who is seeing something horrible she can’t understand.

“Run!” Sam yells too late.

In the blink of an eye Cas has been thrown to the ground and Abaddon has the stranger by the hair. Sam can’t move and he knows Cas is trapped as well, held in place by immense invisible power.

“I guess this one will have to do,” the demon grins. “Now, about that order I gave you, Sam. Leave right now or watch me tear this little insect apart piece by piece.” Abaddon grabs the writhing woman’s hand and Sam can hear the crunch of bones breaking before the she screams.

“Sam, go…” Cas grunts from the ground and the voice inside Sam agrees so forcefully it makes Sam’s stomach flip. The pressure holding him down is gone suddenly and he struggles upright. He meets Castiel’s eyes.

Everything he is tells him to stay but he’s backing away. He’s holding Cas’ gaze, begging him silently to fix this. The woman is whimpering and now Sam is closer to the terminal than he is to the car and his brother.

 _You have to trust him_ , something inside him says. He wants to tell this stupid inner voice that it’s an idiot. Dean needs him. But the terminal doors are already closing and he can hear the distant roar or the impala’s engine starting. If he chases them that woman is dead. Or Cas. Or Dean…

He needs to be strong. He needs to concentrate and figure out how to save them. If that things is in Dean’s brain it already knows too much. Can’t exorcise it. And Abaddon can’t be killed, at least not as far as he knows…

Sam looks around him again, his head spinning with fear and anger and frustration.

And then everything fades, the world consumed in light.

“Sam, I need you to let go,” a voice both alien and familiar commands.

 

_“Let her go!” Dean screams through a mouth full of blood. He doesn’t know how he’s bleeding when this isn’t even his body. Then again his soul bled in hell for thirty years without real flesh attached to it._

_The pain and pressure stops and is replaced by fear._

_“Now, Dean, that’s an interesting little memory,” Abaddon coos. She’s back among the books, tossing them carelessly to the floor, searching. She won’t find it. She can’t. That’s hidden…even if she knows where to look. She’s smiling though and she’s getting to close to the fire place._

_Dean tries to concentrate on reality. There has to be something out there. But that’s worse. Sam is gone. Some poor, terrified woman is driving the Impala with her good hand. The other one is clenched to her chest, destroyed. She’d sobbing in pain and fear beside him. And Cas is there too. Dean can feel him._

_If she finds what she’s looking for she could do all those things to them. She could use his hands to cut them into something no one would recognize._

_“Oh, here we are,” Abaddon’s voice echoes in his brain._

_She’s found it, the secret hiding place in the mantle. The book inside is made of flesh and bone and ash and she caresses it like a lover. He can’t watch this._

_Somehow he’s running, racing away from the room. He trips down the hall. He can her Abaddon laughing, but it’s not just Josie Sand’s voice any more. It’s worse than that. He runs faster. Not this. Anything but this._

_He’s found the stairs and now he knows where he’s going, where he has to go, where he’ll be safe. But this isn’t Bobby’s basement anymore. It’s a prison make of hooks and smoke and oil and screams and blood. And Abaddon is there already. And she’s not alone._

_“It was getting lonely here, just the two of us, don’t you think, Dean?” Abaddon says as she caresses the memory beside her. “You know Allastair was a great friend of mine, a wonderful pupil.”_

_Dean can’t close his eyes because they’re pinned open. He can’t move because he’s strapped to the rack. Alastair it licking his lips as Abaddon hands him the razor._

_“Oh, I’ve missed you…” Alastair whispers in his ear and Dean screams._

 

Beside Castiel, the demon is laughing and he has never been more afriad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope the change in formatting is helpful for differentiating real world versus inside Dean world. Kind of trying to mirror the Cas-Naomi thing from season 8, hope it's successful.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, demon fic, so there is violence and torture. Fair warning.

Human fear had so far proved manageable. It had been simple. The fear of human pain, of starvation. Survival instincts hard wired into Jimmy Novak’s cells. This fear though, this terror seeping into every cell, this was different. It was a thousand times worse than a car barreling down on him. It was a hundred thousand times worse than worry. It made Castiel shake. It made him sick. Just feeling it made him even more scared.

Dean would want him to fight. He repeated the thought over and over in his head. Dean was trapped within his own body, his soul battling with a demon and he needed Castiel’s help. He needed Cas to fight.

Beside them the hostage was weeping, her whole body shaking as she steered the car.

“You can let her go now,” Castiel states, trying to keep his voice calm. “She has nothing to do with this. She’s innocent.”

Abaddon turns curiously to Castiel. Dean’s eyes are no longer black, but they still aren’t the eyes Castiel know. They are cold, hearltess and amused.

“I’ve got some plans for her, sorry,” the demon answers.

“Please…please…I have kids…” the woman whimpers. “My name Maureen Fa…Aughhh!”

Abaddon twists a hand in the air and the woman screeched in pain.

“We’re not talking to you, hon,” he spits, and then turns back to Castiel with a smile. “Do you know he’s screaming in here?” the thing asked with a small laugh. “Oh you should hear it, angel, it’s beautiful.”

“I highly doubt that,” Castiel mutters.

Abaddon only laughs louder beside him. “I can see why he likes you so much.” The demon surveys him, the corner of Dean’s mouth creeping up in a smirk. “Or liked. Your idiocy isn't as amusing, now that you’re useless. What did he call you? That’s right, a baby in a trench coat…oh, but you lost that along with your wings, didn’t you?”

Cas swallows, looking down at his hands. They’re still raw from the injuries from his first day, they still hurt and remind him every second of his humanity. Despite knowing that the demon is lying, saying this just to hurt him, he feels sick with shame.

“You know nothing about Dean Winchester,” Castiel whispers. It’s almost a prayer.

“Oh, but I'm learning,” Abaddon hisses. “I know about hell. About the decades there under the blade. I can see it all…” Abaddon leans close and the words smell of sulfur as they brush Castiel’s skin. “And right now, he’s remembering every second of it.”

“You won’t beat him,” Castiel declares firmly, clenching his fists. “He will drive you out and destroy you.”

For a fraction of a second there’s something different in Dean’s eyes. A glimmer. And then they’re black again.

“Your faith is touching,” the demon sneers. “Foolish and pointless, but touching. Pull over here!”

Maureen winces but does as commanded. They’re in a back alley behind some sort of factory or warehouse. Half the windows are broken and it looks entirely deserted. Abaddon graBs the poor woman by the hair again and pushes her out of the car. Castiel follows uneasily.

“Do you want to guess what your righteous man is thinking now?” the demon sneers as the doors of the warehouse are blasted open by it’s power. “Come on, _Cas_ , guess,” Abaddon orders, flinging Maureen inside onto the concrete.

Castiel meets the black eyes, remembering seeing Dean defiant in the face of the devil himself.

“He’s probably thinking that a demon torturing innocents in an abandoned warehouse is an terrible cliché.”

Castiel only has a second to savor the annoyance on the demon’s face before the thing’s fist lands, sending him flying into a wall. Pain explodes through his entire body and then the world is black.

 

_“He’s got a point…about the…” Dean barely has the strength to get out the words. “cliché.”_

_“Shut up, you worthless piece of meat.”_

_Something like a laugh croaks out of Dean’s throat, past the blood and bile. He feels like he’s been here a century. Or maybe just a week. Or an hour. It doesn’t really matter. It’s all pain. It’s fire and broken glass and things crawling under his skin and something pawing his insides with hot claws and the sound of teeth and the smell of decay._

_But it’s not real. It’s just a memory…It’s just a memory and Cas just pissed off a demon for the second time in five minutes. It made him proud._

_“Dean, Dean, Dean…” the phantom of Alastair drawls in his ear. “We can make this stop.”_

_“Screw you,” Dean grunts, straining against the chains on his wrists._

_“You should listen to him, Dean,” Abaddon purrs in his other ear. She caresses his bare chest and the flesh withers and burns at her touch. Dean screams. “Oh, wait, you already did.”_

_“Fuck you, you bottom feeding piece of demonic shit!” Dean growls but it’s too late. Something is tearing into his head, past every barrier and wall he can put up, into memories and pain and shame._

_And then the pain is gone. And Alastair is spread prone on an iron rack in front of him. Or maybe it’s just another soul. He can’t tell._

_“Now Dean, I told you we were going to have fun, so let’s have some,” the demon in him whispers as it places a blade in his hands._

 

“Please, PLEASE! Let me go please...” The screams are what bring Castiel back. For a moment he doesn’t remember why he’s in pain or why Dean has a woman bound to a concrete column, her arms high above her head. Is she a demon…

No. Dean is the demon. The demon’s power has him pinned to another column, three feet from the sobbing woman. No matter how he struggles he can’t move.

“Oh, good, you’re up,” Abaddon says with a false smile. “Just in time for the show.”

“Dean, don’t do this.” Castiel says it without thinking when he sees the knife in Dean’s hands.

“Oh, but he wants to do this. This is what he was trained for; raised for,” the demon smirks, kneeling down and running the dull edge of the blade over Castiel’s face. “This is who he is. We’re kindred spirits, really, Dean and I…”

“He is nothing like you,” Castiel replies without blinking.

“You wanna bet?” Abaddon snaps back. The familiarity of the expression is horrifying – the defiance, the surety. “He’s more like me than even he knows, and together we’re going to do so much.”

“No,” Castiel repeats as Dean’s body turns away from him and towards Maureen. She catches Castiel’s eyes, her face desperate with terror.

“Do you know what makes a demon a demon? What twists a human soul into one of us in hell?” Abaddon asks in Dean’s voice.

“Torture?” Castiel answers and more tears slip down Maureen’s face.

“You know, that’s what everyone thinks,” Abaddon replies and trails the point of the knife down Maureen’s neck, then up her arm to he wrist. The first cut, right along the bone but not on the vein, makes her sob. The second makes her scream.

“But it’s not about the torture, it’s not about the pain…” the demon explains, making a quick slices to the woman’s cheek and chest. Castiel winces at the blossoms of red over her skin. “It’s not even about the despair…It’s about the hate.”

“Please…please…I know you’re in there, whoever you are, whatever you are…please…” Maureen whispers, a litany of anguish.

“Hate is what makes us, Castiel,” Abaddon says simply, turning back to him. “It’s what gives us strength. It’s like air for us.” The face Castiel knows so well quirks in a terrible smile. “And Dean? This pathetic pile of crap is full of it.”

“Dean, don’t listen to this…” Castiel prays.

Abaddon turns back to the captive and digs the knife into her thigh. Her screams rip in to Castiel’s ears and he shuts his eyes in disgust.

“Oh, but you know it’s true, Castiel,” the demon continues as whatever force keeping Castiel pinned down pushes his eyes open so he can’t look away. “Dean knows that you know, I can feel it. His hatred is so exquisite and he’s ashamed of it! And he hates himself most of all. He'S ashamed of all the glorious work he did in the pit! But he knows that the hate is all he is, in the end…”

“Is that what you’re making him remember? What he did in hell?” Castiel demands, fighting to breathe.

Abaddon turns to him, smiling, and nods. “Something like that.”

“Then, Dean, if you can hear me, you need to remember how it ended.”

The demon squints at him, cocking Dean’s head in confusion.

“Dean, remember, please,” Castiel begs. "Remember."

 

_Dean stops, the blade in his hand poised above his victim’s eye. There is a voice calling to him through the rank, terrible darkness. It sounds like thunder and a choir at the same time. It’s calling his name._

_“What is that?” Abaddon demands from across the rack, something like fear filling her face as the whole world begins to hum and quake._

_“Dean.”_

Castiel’s heart is pounding. Something is changing in Dean’s face. He can see the battle being waged behind his eyes. More than that the force holding Castiel against the column is weakening. He can almost move…

“Dean! Can you hear me? Fight!” Castiel cries. “Remember!”

 

_“How did you get out of hell?”Abaddon demands, her hand suddenly wrapped around Dean’s neck. “How!”_

_There is a light filling up the dungeon. It’s faint at first, but it’s warm and it’s growing. Dean remembers this. It’s been hidden and shielded somewhere in the very bottom of his soul for years, but he remembers now. He knows what’s going to happen, because the light feels like home._

_The voice is closer now. He remembers the first thing he heard it say, days later, in a voice as sure and powerful as the earth. “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”_

_“Tell me, you maggot!” Abaddon screams as the light grows brighter and brighter._

_Dean looks the demon in the eye and smiles. “A friend gave me a lift.”_

 

The pressure against Castiel disappears and he gasps for breath, just as Dean’s face contorts in shock. Castiel falls forwards, reaching out to Dean.

“No, he’s mine…” Abaddon declares through gritted teeth, tripping backwards and away, clearly fighting for control.

Castiel’s hand clamps onto Dean’s shoulder before he can get too far. He knows the exact spot and prays that this will be enough of a final push…

The demon screams and the old, hidden scar beneath Castiel’s hand burns.

“No, he’s mine,” Castiel echoes.

 

_The light explodes and Abaddon’s screams and pain feel every inch of Dean. But it’s not his pain. The burning, searing light is for her, not him._

_He feels himself falling to his knees, Cas’ hand still holding him tight._

_“Cas…”_

_It amazes him when the word actually come out of his mouth._

 

“Dean!” Castiel gasps, not even thinking, as Dean falls forward and he catches him in his arm. He squeezes tight and Dean does the same, as if he’s hanging on for dear life. Why is this, of all things, the best feeling he’s experienced since falling?

“Are you ok?” Dean demands, pulling back and examing Castiel, his hand grasping his face.

“I’m fine,” Cas answered quickly. “She’s not.” He nods to Maureen, whose face is still controrted with pain and horror.

“Please, god, no!” she screams as Dean rushes to her, knife in hand. “Please, please…” She stops in shock as Dean cuts loose the ropes holding her.

“Get out of here, now!” Dean barks.

Maureen casts one more terrified look between then turns and runs. Every muscle in Dean’s body is tense and sweat has materialized on his brow.

“Cas, you gotta go too…” Dean rasps, clenching his fists.

“No, Dean, I’m not leaving you,” Castiel counters, instantly. The looks of annoyance on Dean’s face really shouldn’t make him smile, but it’s too familiar.

“Cas, she’s not gone…I can feel her, inside…” Dean grunts. Castiel reaches for him but Dean pushes him roughly away, doubling over with a cry of pain.

“We can exorcise her…” Castiel protests. “You can push her out, I know it.” Castiel hates the fear in his voice, the panic and uncertainty. In over five years at Dean’s side he’s never been this afraid.

“Cas, please! I’m not strong…not strong enough…” Dean collapses to the ground, his body curling in on itself in pain.

“Yes, you are!” Cas pushes back, quickly kneeling beside Dean. “Just keep fighting, you can…”

Castiel flies back at the same second that Dean’s head snaps up, eyes pitch black. Dean’s face is twisted in rage as he stands, arm and hand out-stretched and channeling the power holding Cas against an unyielding concrete wall.

“You know what Dean can do, Castiel?” Abaddon asks, advancing. “He can tell me every way to hurt you, and then he can watch me kill you.”


	4. Chapter 4

_“Now, that was a dirty trick, Dean.” The voice isn’t close to human any more. Dean tries to focus, past the darkness and fire, and concentrate. Hell is gone, well the memory of it anyway. It’s just him and something that looks vaguely like a person in Bobby’s cluttered basement._

_“Oh, I’m just getting started, bitch,” Dean mutters. The thing in front of him is smoldering, flesh burnt off and black in places. There’s no hair on the right side of it’s head and he can see bones in some places. “This is a good look on you.”_

_“No more games,” Abaddon hisses. The voice is like the grate of metal on metal on top of a scream._

_“I’m not going to let you hurt him,” Dean states. “In fact, I don’t think you even can.”_

_“Oh, really? Is that a challenge?”_

_That was a stupid thing to say, he knows that. But he’s committed now._

_“I think that every time you…or I…whatever…touches him, you lose control and I get stronger,” Dean tells the demon, praying it’s true. “And just think how much stronger it will be when Sam gets here.”_

_“You don’t want Sam anywhere near me, for some reason, Dean, don’t lie,” Abaddon counters and Dean clenches his fists. "Oh and Dean, there’s so many more ways to hurt someone than just pain. Let’s see if we can be creative…”_

_Abaddon advances on him and he can smell the stink of burnt flesh and charred bone._

_“What are you gonna do? Read the Cas cliff notes?” Dean growls. “In case you didn’t notice, we left the library upstairs.”_

_The sight of the demon smiling – the way her teeth are still perfectly white and almost glowing against the burnt ruin of her face, the sick joy in her eyes – fills him with a brand new rush of fear._

_“I’m actually sort of sick of metaphors,” Abaddon says. “Let’s just get right to the heart of things.” And with that she shoves her hand directly into Dean’s chest. Bones shatter, flesh tears and there is a hand made out of grime and bone and anguish and hate locked around his heart._

_Dean screams and screams and screams._

 

Dean is laughing. Or, the demon is. It’s hard for Castiel to remember that this isn’t Dean, not now. The chuckle is at the same time familiar and completely changed. Dean’s laugh was always warm. This sound is cruel.

“Oh, Cas, Cas, Cas…” the thing sighs, turning to look at him like a predator. “You know, for a minute there, I was regretting sending sweet little Sammy away, but it turns out, you’re gonna be just as fun to rip apart.”

Castiel is barley able to move two steps back before the demon’s power seizes him, crushing him from the inside.

“Stay,” Abaddon orders, sending a twist of pain through Castiel’s body. “Even if I can’t touch you, I can still hurt you.”

Castiel glares back at the thing wearing Dean’s face, steadfastly silent, but noting the words. That was the connection. Twice Dean had fought through. He could do it again.

“So where should we start…he’s got so many hidden little thoughts about you, did you know that?” The demon asks, the voice sing-song and amused.

Castiel falls to his knees, the pain wrapping itself tight around his insides.

“Oh, he’s fighting to keep them all in right now. Losing, of course. Guess it figures that he’d want to keep all of it buried deep…” A smile creeps across Dean’s face, as if the demon is discovering something delightful.

Castiel swallows down another wave of fear.

“I mean he’s so…ashamed.”

“What?” The word escapes Catiel’s mouth, raw and breathless, before he can think. He shouldn’t respond, shouldn’t give the thing the satisfaction. But it’s too late.

“You heard me, Cas,” Dean’s voice answer. The pain fades slightly, as the demon kneels down, coming to Castiel’s level, a crooked smile on his lips. “Ashamed. Fucking sickened by what you’ve done to him, how you’ve warped and broken and destroyed him.”

Castiel sets his jaw in determination, meeting the green eyes. They may not be black, but they are still not Dean and this is not true. “You’re lying.”

“Am I? Do you want to know a secret Castiel?” Abaddon ask as the pain ebbs. “I think there is part of him that’s enjoying this. I mean, after all the ways you’ve hurt him…it’s a bit poetic that now he gets to return the favor.”

“I…” Castiel is still struggling to breathe, and to push the words away. “I didn’t…”

“Oh, come on, don’t lie!” Dean snaps with a ferocity that makes Castiels start. “And don’t give me any of that trying to do the right thing crap. He knows and you know and I know that’s just excuses. You know what you did. What you did _to him_. Even you aren’t that oblivious.”

Castiel looks away, trying to focus on the cracked concrete beneath them.

“Oh, don’t you dare. Don’t you dare try and run away from this, Cas,” the demon orders and Castiel’s head in snapped back up, held in place by rough, invisible hands. “You’ve gotta know that you've hurt him and disappointed more than anyone else – and that’s a pretty fucking high honor considering what his father put him through and that his brother nearly ended the goddamn world.”

Castiel gulps, unable to look away from the accusing eyes. Dean twists his hand and another wave of pain shots through Castiel’s body.

“But then there’s you,” Dean continues. “The one person – if we can really call you that, jury’s still out – that he truly trusted, that he truly believed in. The one that who made him think, even for a second, that he might be worthy, that he might be good. And you betrayed him so completely.” The demon chuckles, as Castiel grits his teeth, unwilling to give it the satisfaction of his screams.

“And let me say, working with Crowley? Stupid move.”

Suddenly the pain is over and Dean’s face is closer. He licks his lips and Castiel suppresses a protest.

“Do you know what the really sad part is?” Dean asks quietly. “He’s such an idiot, that he doesn’t blame you. He blames himself. The poor bastard thinks it was his job to keep you in line, to keep you good and if he had been better, he could have stopped you. But there’s another part of him that knows that’s not the case. Or hopes. He tells himself that you were an angel. You weren’t capable of caring the way he hoped.”

“I cared…” Castiel grunts, breaking and forcing out the words.

“Shut up, we’re talking,” Dean growls and an invisible hand is gripping Castiel’s throat.

“And then - then! – you come back for a freaking second, you give him more hope, the idiot forgives you and you _fucking died on him_. AGAIN.” Dean advances, power forcing Castiel back, away from him until he’s slammed into a wall.

“How does it feel, Cas?” the demon asks. “To be the thing that finally broke the invincible Dean Winchester? The moron who fought back the goddamn armies of hell, and he’s brought low because one stupid angel lies to him then dissolves into a puddle of goo.”

Castiel is suddenly thrown, slammed into the ground with a force that knocks the wind out of him and leaves his whole body smarting.

“Oh, we’re getting to the really good stuff now, aren’t we?”

“We?” Cas echoes weakly.

“Oh yeah, he’s way down the rabbit hole now,” Abaddon laughs. “A nice long stroll down memory lane can really bring out the rage in a young man. In fact…”

The hand the grips Castiel by the neck now is not invisible. It’s rough and hot and real. Dean lifts him up until his feet aren’t even touching the ground as Castiel’s hands claw uselessly at him, panic and instinct taking over. A satisfied smile twists Dean’s lips.

“I think our little problem is solved…”

 

_“Are we having fun yet, Dean?”Abaddon cackles as Dean collapses, throat raw and tears streaming from his eyes. “I’m in you, you know. I know you like this…”_

_“Go fuck yourself,” Dean mumbles, barely able to think the words. “Let him go.”_

_Abaddon only laughs again. Dean looks up at the demon, horrified to see that she’s holding something in his hand that looks way too much like a human heart. His heart. She’s examining it dispassionately. The blood is dark on her blackened hands._

_“Hmm. Interesting…” she purrs, peering more closely. She experimentally licks the blood from one finger, pausing to consider the taste. Then she laughs again. Dean is sure he’s never hated any sound more._

_“Oh this…this is good, Dean, this is…this is wonderful,” she keens._

_“What the fuck are you…” He can’t even finish. It hurts too much._

_“You know, here I was thinking we were just having some harmless fun with your best friend, but…” She stops to giggle and bends down to Dean. She caresses his face, smearing his own blood roughly on his cheeks. “And you call ME the abomination.”_

_She clucks her tongue and laughs again._

_“Does he know, Dean?” she whispers, coming so close that the scent of decay fills his nostrils and mouth. “Do you even know, you stupid, stupid boy?”_

 

~

 

Sam feels like he’s watching his own life through a window. Or maybe on a really really nice TV. Whatever the metaphor he’s just a spectator right now and he’s really not sure why. The world is humming and buzzing and everything is full of light. He’s moving fast. Too fast really. And he can’t stop himself. He’s not in control and he is strangely ok with that. 

Is he high?

 No, he wouldn’t have had time to get high in between the demons and a possessed brother.

 Dean. How did he forget Dean. And Abaddon and Cas and that woman?

  _The woman, yes. Thank you._

It’s the same voice that knew Dean wasn’t Dean. The voice knows that woman, knows the signature of her soul. Sam didn’t even know souls had signatures.

 He can’t find Dean, but he can find her. Sam has no idea why he’s not freaking out, but what ever. He can find her. We, maybe not him. Maybe they can find her…

 

~ 

 

“Dean…” Castiel begs, looking for something familiar in the grinning face. “Dean, please…”

“Let me tell you something about Dean Winchester, you pathetic fool,” the demon snarls back, slamming Cas into a column. “Dean Winchester is a scared, stupid little boy. Daddy never loved him, every thing he touches turns to shit, everyone he looks at twice dies bloody, wah wah, it goes on and on, and the moron won’t give up!”

The demon presses Castiel against the wall with brutal force, pushing his arm against Castiel’s windpipe.

“But the best part is his biggest mistake, he greatest regret…oh wait until you hear it, Cas, you’re gonna go crazy,” the demon continues and Castiel can feel inhuman heat radiating from Dean’s body, and the scent of his breath is sulfur and smoke. “He fell in love. The moron fell in love with a fucking angel.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Slurs, physical abuse and non-consensual touch.

“What?” Castiel is sure the demon is lying or that he’s in som much pain he must have heard wrong. That was impossible. Dean didn’t…he couldn’t…

“Oh for fuck’s sake, how many years have you been trailing after this moron and you didn’t know?” Abaddon scoffs, rolling Dean’s eyes. “I guess it figures, I mean, you never really cared about him back, he knows that.”

Castiel glares at the thing holding him in place, rage and hate filling him up and pushing past the pain. “That’s not true. I’d die for him.”

“Don’t worry, you will,” Dean smiles. “But that's for later. This is about hurting you as much as possible before I paint the walls with your insides.  Now, the beauty of this truly, truly pathetic little crush of his, I think, is that he’s known for a while…”

 

_Dean wonders for a second how this can hurt so much, if it’s all in his head. But the pain pushes that thought away. It pushes everything away._

_“Stop it, please…” he begs, wishing that closing his eyes made a difference._

_“Oh no, Dean, there’s so much more for me to discover,” Abaddon laughs._

_Somehow he’s sitting up again. Abaddon is beside him, nuzzling his head and whispering in his ear. “Answer me a question, how long has this sin been inside you?”_

_The world dissolves around him in a haze of smoke and ash, and suddenly he’s watching himself, standing by a ring of holy fire._

 

“Of course, the day he figures it out is the day you fucking betray him,” Dean sneers at Castiel. “Do you think that’s why he never told you? Never admitted it to himself, really? Or maybe it’s the whole 'everything I love' dies bullshit.  Everything and everyone he loves does tend to leave, that's true. Can't blame him for wondering if the problem is him. And, personally, I'm pretty sure it is.”

The demon leans close and Castiel squirms uselessly. He tries to shut his eyes as Dean’s face bushes against his, his lips grazing seductively against Castiel’s cheek and ear.

“But I think you and I both know why he kept his mouth shut,” he whispers.

 

_The vision of fire is gone, replaced by another, much older memory._

_“Not this, please,” Dean whimpers as he feels Abaddon’s claws tear deeper into his heart._

_Dean cringes as he sees himself, seventeen and huddled against the impala, trying with all his might to hide. But it didn’t matter, dad had already seen. He had been sure no one would catch them, sure that Sammy and Dad would be out for another hour and it was safe to meet up with the boy with the crooked smile from the shake shack…_

_They’d barely kissed, barely done anything before they’d been found. The kid was lucky to get away with a threat and a slur. Dean wasn’t so fortunate. The clap across his face had split his lip._

_And now John Winchester is howling at him in an alley behind a 7-11. “Dean, I swear, If I ever, EVER catch you doing that again, hell if I catch you so much as looking at a boy I swear to you I will…” His father is too disgusted to even finish the threat. His hands clench into fists and Dean braces himself. “I didn’t raise a faggot, are we clear?”_

_“Yes, sir,” Dean grunts automatically._

 

“He knows he’s disgusting, a freak, a disgrace. He’s not worthy of calling himself a hunter,” the demon hisses.

“Dean, that’s not true,” Castiel chokes out.

“Oh it is. All he can do is profane and destroy.” Dean’s mouth quirks against Castiel’s skin in a smile. “He and I understand each other. He just needs to realize that this, turning the weakness of love into death? This is a gift. I can give him so many gifts…”

A hand slides down Castiel’s abdomen and he shudders as it reaches his hips.

“There’s so much he wants to do to you, Cas,” the demon mutters. “So much he’s never even dared to dream of…I wonder if this poor little mortal body of yours will be able to stand it.”

Castiel struggles, pushing back with every muscle as the demon laughs, breath hot on his skin. It is absolutely useless. The weight of the thing against him and the power holding him back are too much.

“Stop,” Castiel rasps, barely able to breathe with the pressure on his throat. “Dean, please, I know you’re in there.”

 

_“Stop, please, god, stop it, don’t do this to him, please…” Dean is begging. He’s broken on the floor somewhere dark and he can see everything Abaddon does and he can’t stop it._

_“He knows this is wrong. That it’s sick,” his Father’s voices echoes in his head._

 

“Dean, fight,” Cas begs as teeth graze against his jaw _,_

_“He doesn’t really think you can fight, you know. He knows you’re weak, disgusting, useless.”_

_Dean covers his head, shaking and trying to block out the words and the screams of demonic laughter behind them._

_“He doesn’t want you. He’ll run the second we let go,” something whispers and Dean isn’t sure if it’s Abaddon’s voice or his._

“Dean, this isn’t you. I know you can hear me.”

_“Cas,” Dean whispers. There’s something about the words, something long forgotten. Something important._

_A flash of fire and he’s someplace else; another memory. His bones are broken and he can barely see. Cas is standing above him, face blank, his blade poised in his hand._

_“Do it,” he hears himself say._

_This is the moment he'd been ready to die. For Cas._

 

Dean releases him without warning. Castiel gasps for breath as he crumples to the ground. There’s confusion on Dean’s face as he backs away.

“He’s fighting you. He’s never going to stop fighting you, just let him go!” Castiel groans, struggling to move.

“Shut up!” the demon barks, his focus snapping back to Castiel and his eyes turning black. Castiel braces himself as demon advances back on him

“His soul, his heart, him memories, they belong to me now!” the demon growls. “Even if I have to tear them out of him one by one!” The first blow lands, a vicious backhand, and Castiel’s vision blurs with pain.

 

~

 

It’s not hard to find her, really; just a matter of listening for her soul. The fear she is feeling, and the pain, they make the cry even louder. Even if they didn’t already know the sound, it could have been sensed.

Sam doesn’t know how he can hear souls, or how he’s moving or doing anything. He’s not trying to, but he can’t stop it and for some reason he doesn’t want to. He’s doing what needs to be done to save Dean. That’s all that matters.

What about Abaddon though? They haven’t been able to kill her yet. She’s too strong. She’s a freaking knight of hell.

What if she’s weakened? Can she be weakened?

Demons are weaker in their pure state – torn from their hosts. They are vulnerable and ephemeral.

So if they can get her to smoke out, they can kill her.

Sam knows that this should cause him alarm, this knowledge that he or…they…can kill her, Smite her…in the right circumstances. It might not destroy her entirely, but it can send her back to hell for a long time. So it’s ok.

It’s scary and not scary at all, feeling this at peace when everything is falling apart around him. But Sam is warm and calm and ready.

The sound of the soul is ringing out everywhere now. They’re close.

The woman screams when she sees him. She screams when he grips her arms, noting the long cuts and gashes there and on her face.

“The one who took you, where did he go?” Sam’s voice asks.

“Please, please, don’t make me go back! He’s crazy! He was going to…” the woman breaks into sobs.

Sam frowns, looking down at her small, shaking form. As he touches her face, he thinks that this may not be the best time for a serious invasion of personal space, but the thought fades as the light grows. The light is warm and gentle and miraculous. It knits together her wounds before it reaches into her terrified mind.

Sam sees it clearly: the road, the building, Dean and Castiel. They’re not far.

They take it in and away from her, leaving her mind blank and pure again.

That’s not right. She should know…she shouldn’t just be left to wake up in an alley somewhere with a giant hole in her life.

But they are already moving. Sam and whatever is moving him and keeping him back and safe. They must move fast. There isn’t much time.

 

~

 

“He is stronger than you,” Castiel retorts, his skin stinging, turning slowly to look back to Dean’s face.

“Oh, come on, we both know he’s weak, pathetic. Do you want to know what Dean’s worst memory is, Cas? Let me give you a clue it goes something like this…”

Dean’s fist collides with his jaw and new pain exploded in his head. He barely had time to blink before another blow lands, then another. His lip is split and he can taste blood in his mouth.

“Just imagine you’re Dean and I’m some crazy robot version of you,” Dean taunts, grabbing Castiel by the collar and striking again and Castiel understands.

“I stopped…I heard him…” Castiel pants, bracing himself before another blow lands. “Dean, I know you’re in there. I was…”

 

 _Dean can only see from one eye. And he knows he is going to die. And only one thing matters._  

_“Cas…I know you’re in there. I know you can hear me…” he can barely choke out the words. “Cas, it’s me. We’re family. We need you. I need you.”_

_And then everything is empty._

 

“But you didn’t hear!”

Castiel blinks at the ferocity of the words, caught in a moment of confusion before another blow lands.

“If you had heard you would have stayed! If you had fucking understood what it meant!” Dean cries, throwing Castiel to the floor and delivering a kick to his gut. “You left. You ran off like you always do! You didn’t care. You never care.”

Again Castiel is lifted by his throat. Dean draws close, his face inches from Castiel’s twisted in rage. Through blood Castiel can see Dean’s eyes aren’t black anymore. They’re human.

“You didn’t hear me.”

Me. The word is a sliver of terrifying hope.

“I did. I did hear you, Dean. I heard everything…you broke the link. You broke heaven’s control,” Cas tells him carefully, even as Dean’s hand tightens on his throat. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for leaving. I shouldn’t have….”

Dean’s body is shaking, his entire face tense with an invisible struggle.

“But I heard you. Like you can hear me,” Castiel goes on, barely able to whisper. “Dean, it was you.” Dean draws a shaking breath and his grip loosens just slightly. “It’s always been you. It always will be.”

_The light is blinding, but just for a moment, then is gone. Dean stares around the empty basement, whole and alone_.

_“Cas?”_

“Cas…” Dean breathes.

“Dean?” Castiel gasps. “Dean, do you hear me? Do you understand, it was you, not the tablet. It was you! And you have to know that I…”

Castiel chokes on the next word, as Dean’s grip regains it’s strength even tighter than before. He smiles and once again his eyes washing full of black.

“Tablet?”


	6. Chapter 6

_“What tablet, Dean? What are you hiding from me?” Abaddon shrieks. Dean is laid out on the rack, fire and pain ripping through him. “Did you morons find the word of god? Was it those pathetic men of letter? Tell me!”_

_Dean bites down on the scream blossoming in his throat. Cas is still out there. Cas believes in him. Cas heard him. Cas…_

_“I’m going to make you tear out his still beating heart if you don’t tell me!” Abaddon screams._

_Dean clenches his jaw and looks up at her. There’s not a scrap of humanity left in her face. The illusion of Josie Sands or whoever she was thousands of years before has been completely burned away and all that is left is a horrific vision of teeth and hollow, burning eyes and charred flesh. It's as horrible as anything he saw in the pit, maybe worse._

_But he can still see with his real eyes, in a strange way. And the face he sees is still the face of heaven._

_“You know what, bitch?” Dean grunts, gathering his strength. “Bite me.”_

_“That can be arranged!” Abaddon roars and his mind fills with blades and pain. And then fire._

_And then it’s gone._

_Dean blinks. He can only see one thing now and it’s not the pit or the real world. It’s…the panic room? He spins slowly, taking in the details: the devil's trap on the floor, the iron walls, the fan spinning lazily in the vent above. The table and cot are still there, but something has been added. Dad’s journal…and not just that._

_Dean walks slowly to edge of the room, trying to understand what he’s seeing. The old card table is covered in pictures….but it’s not evidence for a hunt. These are much more important. Some of the pictures are faded, some are brand new. There are dozens of them and Dean recognizes every smiling face._

_He trails his fingers lightly over an old Polaroid of Sammy. Then a charred portrait of five hunters and an angel the night before they tried to kill the devil. He smiles at the faces of Ellen and Jo, Sam and Cas and Bobby. Beside that there’s a picture of Bobby all by himself, actually smiling. And there’s a picture of Charlie in her crown, Kevin looking up from a book, Garth grinning like an idiot, Krissy looking embarrassed. He pushes a few pictures aside…beneath them is sketch in pencil. Benny._

_“What the hell?” Dean asks in a whisper as he draws a small, faded snap shot from the pile. His mother’s face smiles up at him._

_“Where are you?” The scream is enraged but muffled and distant. Whatever corner of his mind this is, Abaddon can’t find him here. He’s not sure if that’s good or very, very bad._

 

“Where the hell are you, Dean…”

Castiel squints at Dean in confusion. Dean’s face is twisted in anger and bewilderment.

“Those tablets must be pretty important, if just the mention of them send little Dean screaming off to hide…” the demon mutters, looking back at Castiel. “Since he’s not talking, it’s all on you, friend.”

“Dean is…”

“Gone,” Abaddon finishes. “Just you and me now, no hero to interrupt us.”

“No…he’s…”

“Tell me about the tablet, Castiel,” Abaddon orders. Castiel stumbles back, his heart pounding. “I asked you a question, Castiel!” the demon cries and pounces, grabbing Castiel by the shoulders and shaking him. “Tell me about the tablets!”

“No,” Castiel replies, bracing himself for more pain. Dean’s black eyes narrow.

“You know, you two are both so stubborn, I think you are made for each other,” the demon sneers. “But that's just going to make breaking the both of you so much more satisfying.”

“You won’t break him,” Castiel protests instantly.

“Then I’ll need to start with you,” the demon smirks, pulling Castiel close. “Soon I'll have everything you’re hiding. Now…” Dean’s mouth is an inch from Castiel’s and for a horrified, delirious moment Castiel thinks he’s going to kiss him. “Show me what you’ve seen.”

Castiel struggles uselessly as acrid, black smoke seeps from Dean’s mouth into his own. It burns into his stomach and lungs, putrid and writhing like a living thing.

And then he’s somewhere else, somewhere formless and bright where memories are flashing faster than he can name them. Everything is there, a eternity of knowledge from the beginning of creation, all at her mercy and he can’t fight her. He can feel her rifling through his mind, and wonders, distantly if this is what she did to Dean or if it was worse for him.

Dean. The cascade of memories slows and coalesces into Dean Winchester’s green eyes. Castiel can see his soul again, shing bright in hell. He can see a friend asking him for help, showing him how to be free, making him hope…helping him believe that a human life is worth it. It’s all there, all him.

He can see Dean’s face through blinding light, tired and confused and amazed. He can see all of Dean now, standing in…in Bobby Singer’s panic room? This is not a familiar memory…

“Cas?” the memory asks.

Castiel blinks and looks down at himself then back at Dean.

“Cas is this…is this really you?” Dean asks.

“I was going to ask you the same question,” Castiel tells him calmly. “Dean where…”

The hug would have hurt or knocked the wind out of him if this had been real. But instead it just takes Castiel by surprise and makes him stop worrying and thinking. There’s no pain, just safety and warmth and Dean. Castiel hugs him back, his human heart filling with relief and joy.

“How did you get in my head? What’s going on?” Dean asks, suddenly pulling back.

“Abaddon, she is trying to access my memories of the tablet, she’s in my consciousness…I think she may be lost,” Castiel explains.

“We can’t let her…”

“I know, Dean,” Castiel cuts Dean off. “You have to stop her before she finds it, you have to take back control again and cast her out.”

“Cas what if it’s too late?” Dean protests, fear filling his face. “If she knows, I can’t let her out. I’ve got to get her away. _You_ have to get away.”

“No.”

Dean blinks, drawing back from Catiel in confusion.

“Excuse me? If I give you a chance you have to bolt and find Sam and Kev and keep everything safe…” Dean pushes back.

“I am not leaving you,” Castiel states plainly.

Dean tilts his head, his eyes softening even as his jaw tenses. “Cas, Abaddon is not fucking around. She is going to kill you and…”

“I am aware of that,” Castiel sighs. “It is most likely that she’ll kill me eventually any way, so if I am to die, I’d rather it be close to you.”

“Cas, I can’t let you die,” Dean breathes, shaking his head.

“This is my choice, Dean, and if I stay here it may give you the chance to fight,” Castiel continues quietly. “And anyway, if she wins you’re…likely as good as dead too, so there would be very little point in lingering in life.”

“What the hell are you saying, Cas?” Dean asks. Castiel holds his gaze, giving him a weak smile despite himself.

“I’m trying to tell you what I was saying before a demon interrupted,” Castiel replies. “I refuse to live in a world where you are absent. So I'm staying. You’re…always the reason, Dean, for everything.”

“Cas…” Dean sighs, emotions Castiel in unequipped to read washing over his face.

“I need you too,” Cas tells him simply. “I think you should know that…”

 

Dean feels like he was just punched in the gut, which is weird because he’s taken a lot of punishment today, and also because he’s smiling. His head is reeling and he can’t for the life of him come up with a good enough snarky comeback.

Then the room starts shaking which puts things back in perspective.

“Dean? What’s going on?” Cas asks, looking around in panic.

Dean blinks, because this should really freak him out too. After all he’s freaking possessed by a knight of hell who is about to kill him and the guy he…Dean is smiling again. And now there is light streaming in from the vent above the panic room.

“Dean!” Cas yells. “I think she’s found you.”

There are screams now from outside of the panic room door, and through the grate Dean can see glimpses of black smoke and fire.

“No…this…this isn’t her,” Dean mutters. “This sort of happened before when you…” Dean stops, something clicking into place in his brain even as the screams grow louder and the light grows brighter.

“Dean?” Cas calls. He’s fading, whatever link Abaddon’s powers had enabled is breaking.

“Cas, stay with me ok, I think I figured it out!” Dean yells as Cas grows more indistinct. “Say it again!”

“Say…what?” Cas asks, his face contracting in confusion.

“That you…”

“That I need you too,” Cas fishises and another tremor rocks the room and the light blazes brighter. The light isn’t just coming from the vent anymore, it’s coming from the table with the pictures.

“What makes a demon a demon…” Dean mutters, warmth spreading in his chest. Cas’ eyes widen in understanding just as he fades completely.

The screaming from outside the door is deafening now, and smoke has started to seep in.

“What are you doing?!” Abaddon screeches.

Dean flexes his fists, glancing to the table of memories and letting the light wash over him. It's coming from inside him as well now. He knows exactly what to do. His mouth quirks in a defiant smile.

“Come on in, bitch,” Dean yells as the door swings open.

The cloud of smoke that is Abaddon rushes in filling the panic room for one second before the light overtakes it.

“What is this!?” the inhuman voice roars as the light pushes her back.

Dean blinks and he’s standing in the warehouse, in reality. Cas is there, bleeding and panicked in his arms. Dean can feel the demon twisting and fighting inside him, tearing at every defense and weakness, still screaming to know what’s happening.

“Dean…”

" _Tell me what you are_!"

“This is me,” Dean pants, focusing on Cas’ eyes. “This is me figuring out the one thing that’s always saved us.”

Abaddon gives a cry of rage inside him, burning and furious and Dean nearly collapses from the pain. But Cas is there to hold him up. His eyes are expectant and amazed and it makes Dean smile despite himself.

“Love, Cas, it’s love,” Dean whispers.

Dean sees a smile whisper over Cas’ face before his eyes slam shut, pain erupting inside him.

 _"Do you think this is a fairy tale, you miserable piece of filth! Do you think you can drive me out with something as pathetic and useless as_ …"

“Dean…” Cas’ voice battles out Abaddon’s relentless cries. “Dean if that’s the case, then I…”

“Shut up,” Dean orders and pulls Cas to him, pressing their lips together in a searing kiss.

Dean’s eyes are still closed but the light is brilliant. It’s got to be weird, really, to be kissing someone you’ve wanted to kiss for who knows how long and to be thinking about parents and friends and a stupid gigantic brother. But that’s all that Dean can think of. His family. Cas and Sam and everyone. Everyone he…loves.

Dean falls back, choking and tumbling to the ground as searing black smoke pours out of his throat and it feels like his blood is on fire. He blinks because his eyes are open now but the light, the blinding light is still there and the whole world is ringing and screaming and shaking. Cas is on the ground, bloody and Sam…Sam is there and…

Something explodes and everything goes black.

 

~ 

 

Everything hurts. Not in the metaphorical sense – in the sense that Dean can literally feel every inch of his body in pain. But it’s his body and he can move it and he’s pretty sure he’s alone in it.

A splash of water on his face makes him finally open his eyes. “Sammy?” Dean groans.

Sam is standing over him with a flask, Dean assumes it’s holy water. He grimaces as he tries to move.

“Demon free, nice.” Sam smiles. Dean gives moving another effort and manages to sit up even though every muscles is screaming against it. He looks around, trying to piece together what happened.

“Cas?” he asks automatically, reaching out for Sam’s offered hand.

“I’m here,” Cas answers and he’s suddenly at Dean’s side, holding his arm gently and helping him up.

“What the hell…Abaddon, is she…” Dean stammers. He has a really bad feeling about how what happened to the demon and a new fear is creeping up inside him.

“We don’t know…” Sam answer. “I got here just as she was un-jumping your bones and there was this bright light and…boom. It got us all. Cas and I came too right before you.”

“So…you don’t know what…” Dean asks, directed more at Cas than Sam.

“I know you drove her out, maybe it was enough to weaken her or…” Cas’ voice fades. “You did it, Dean, you drove out a demon.”

“Yeah well, I had some help…” Dean mutters. He’s too sore and tired to fight smiling at Cas. Cas shakes his head, looking away. Smiling and blushing like a real human is a good look on him, Dean thinks, even when he’s bloody.

“Guys…is there something I’m missing?” Sam asks, blinking aggressively as he looks between them.

“It’s a…long story and I’m gonna need some whiskey and pain pills before I spill it,” Dean answers.

“Let’s get you some place to rest,” Cas suggests. Dean automatically drapes his arm around Cas’ shoulder and lets him guide him out of the warehouse.

“You’re not looking so good yourself by the way,” Dean remarks. “Sorry 'bout that.”

“You’ll find some way to earn my forgiveness, I’m sure,” Cas suggests with a shrug. Dean’s eyes go wide as he looks at Cas. There’s a slight smile on his face that is all kinds of smug and challenging. And damn hot.

Laughing hurts like a bitch, but Dean does it anyway.

“Guys, seriously, what the hell…” Sam demands.

 

~

 

Dean can still feel, even in the twilight haze on the edge of dreams. His body doesn’t hurt as much now for which his is very grateful to Mr. Johnny Walker and…whoever the hell invented codeine. He’s more grateful though to the ex-angel curled on the memory foam next to him.

He likes the warm sigh of Cas’ breath on his chest and the feel of his dark hair as Dean weaves it between his fingers. It almost makes the demon mind rape worth it. Almost. Add on to that the fucking golden memory of Sam falling over himself in shock when Dean had grabbed Cas and kissed him the second they hit the bunker. Sam’s joyous cry of “I fucking knew it!” was pretty hysterical too. That had almost been worth the smug disbelief on Sam’s face as Dean was forced to explain he’d evicted a demon with the goddamn power of love.

He’d managed to get back at Sammy though by being pretty clear, and voca,l about what he intended to teach Cas about being human once they got to his room. That had sent the kid running to beg Kevin for his noise-canceling headphones.

Given that they had both been beaten to crap in various ways by a demon earlier in the day, the sex had been pretty damn impressive, if maybe not as drawn out as Dean would have liked. Still, coming with Cas for the first time…that was definitely worth the pain.

“We need to talk.”

Dean jumps, at the sound of Sam’s voice from beside him.

“Holy crap, dude, what are you…” Dean stops. Cas is still sleep beside him, despite the noise and Sam is staring at him with calm detachment.

“Zeke? Is…am I dreaming,” Dean stammers and the angel nods. “Dude, I have had enough people in my brain today and you could have caught some stuff with your brother that I really, really don’t think you wanna see…”

“You love him,” Ezekiel states, glancing curiously towards dream Cas.

“Uh…yeah…”

“Your love drove out the demon,” Ezekiel continues. “It wounded her terribly. It allowed me to banish her back to hell,” he says, as if he was reporting the weather.

“Hold up, you smited…smote…whatevered Abaddon? That was real?”

“Smote. Yes,” the angel replies calmly. “The destroyer will not trouble you for the foreseeable future.”

“And once again Sam doesn’t remember any of this?” Dean demands, a sick wave of guilt churning in his stomach.

“This displeases you?”

“I’m just…I hate lying to him,” Dean sighs. “Can I at least tell Cas…”

“No, that is too great a risk,” Ezekiel stops him.

“So I lie to him too?” Dean gapes. Ezekiel inclines his head, both careful and imposing at the same time.

“You all lie to each other, to keep one another safe, this is…a deep expression of human love,” Ezkiel says, as if he’s testing out a new theory.

“No, that’s not how it works, man…” Dean protests.

“Then love will hopefully help them forgive you.”

Dean’s eyes fly open in the dark. Cas stirs beside him, murmuring something unintelligible. Dean swallows and presses a kiss to the crown of his head. He pulls Cas closer, hoping to drive back the cold growing inside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! It's finished and done! I hope everyone enjoyed it and that the balance of lurve and angst at the end sat well....


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